


Terrors Don't Prey on Innocent Victims

by emraldmoon



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Angst, Comfort, Corpses, Dead People, Gen, Iron Man - Freeform, IronDad and SpiderSon, Irondad, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Poor Peter Parker, Precious Peter Parker, Protective Tony Stark, car crash, spiderman - Freeform, spiderson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-07
Updated: 2019-03-07
Packaged: 2019-11-13 14:27:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18033455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emraldmoon/pseuds/emraldmoon
Summary: Peter rushes to help the victims of a car crash, but finds them all dead.





	Terrors Don't Prey on Innocent Victims

 

Peter was patrolling 14th Street when he heard a loud BANG, followed by the unmistakable tire squeal of a car veering off the road.

He immediately swung into action, ricocheting off and around buildings to where he heard the noise.

Peter had dealt with car crashes before. An oblivious new young driver ran a stop sign, or someone checked their phone while behind the wheel, and the car swerved to the next lane over.

The injuries were generally the same - minor cuts or bruises, or, on the more severe end of the spectrum, a concussion. On any other day, Peter would arrive at the scene, help people out of the cars, wait for the authorities to arrive, and swing off again.

This was not any other day

After swinging around the final corner, Peter almost fell when he saw the scene before him.

One of the vehicles, a shiny new sports car, lay on its side as smoke billowed from the hood. A tire was rolling lazily away from the vehicle as the surrounding cars had formed a ring-like space around it, all swerving to avoid the catastrophe.

But that wasn’t what concerned Peter the most.

In front of the overturned car, having plowed into the brick wall of a shoe store, was a minivan, the bumper sticker of a mother, father, and three baby girls on the back window.

The minivan had hit the wall hard enough to leave a dent, dust beginning to rise from the settling brick. The entire right side of the vehicle was pressed against the wall, parts of it dented and crumpled from the pure force of the impact.

Peter tried to shake off the hollow feeling of dread in his stomach as he shook his head and swung into action.

He went first for the minivan, the three smiling stick figures of children seeming to taunt Peter as he brought himself down in the middle of the street, quickly running the final steps to the red van.

“Peter.” Peter jumped at the sudden reminder of Karen. “Do you require my assistance?”

Peter found his head spinning. Why - why couldn’t he focus? He was  _ Spiderman _ . He had rescued people from car crashes before. He could do this.

“Y-yeah, Karen.” He hated how young his voice sounded.

“Before we begin, there is gasoline dripping from the vehicle behind you. It may light soon.”

Peter’s breath quickened. “Let’s make this fast, then.” He reassessed the vehicle in front of him, fighting to keep his breathing steady. “Where’s my best point of entry?”

“Driver’s side door is the only one not tainted by rubble.”

“Thanks, Karen.”

Peter reached out a shaking hand  _ (why was it shaking?) _ and gripped the handle, easily pulling it open with his extra strength. Spoke billowed out but his mask stopped him from squinting against it. And when it cleared….

He expected crying.

Screaming.

Pleads for help.

He didn’t expect  _ silence _ .

Peter’s heart beat faster, blocking out the noises of the oncoming sirens.  _ Were they even still there? Was help ever coming? _

“Peter, a small fire has started in the engine of the vehicle behind you.” Karen’s soft voice interrupted his thoughts, but at the moment even the gentle AI couldn’t snap him out of his predicament. Peter ignored her and instead asked his own question, focusing on the slumped-over man behind the wheel, not being able to take his eyes off where the man’s eyes were - were rolled back in his-

“Karen, read his vitals.”

His heart pounded in his throat as he assessed the pale face and the blood dripping down the various wounds of the man before him. The airbag was deployed but it was tinted - it was tinted  _ red _ -

“Dead. No vitals.”

Peter felt like he was going to throw up.

“Peter, the fire is spreading dangerously close to the gasoline-”

“Read the woman’s vitals,” he ignored her, finding the mother in the passenger seat.

His limbs felt like lead, and he wasn’t sure how long he stood there, waiting for Karen’s response.

Could’ve been days.

Could’ve been mere seconds.

It didn’t change her answer.

“Dead. No vitals.”

Peter shook his head.

Spiderman.

_ He was Spiderman. _

Focus.

“Peter, the flame-”

“Karen,” he choked out. He had to save them. He was Spiderman; he  _ had  _ to save them.

“Check for heat signatures in the back.”

Maybe the stickers were left on the van from the last owner. Maybe there weren’t any kids  _ in  _ the van-

“Three heat signatures detected.”

Peter fought to move, to see them, to open the door to the back seat and help the children out - children. There were  _ children  _ back there.

But all he could do was gasp out, “Read vitals.”

Everything went quiet.

Still.

Silent.

The world itself seemed to stop spinning as Peter awaited the response.

“All dead. No vitals.”

Peter’s brain shut down.

Then, it went into hyperdrive.

Peter’s breath quickened as he backed away -  _ stumbled  _ away from the car, staggering as he clutched a hand to his chest. He couldn’t breathe,  _ couldn’t breathe- _

“Peter, you have to leave  _ now _ . The car is about to explode.”

Peter just shook his head and fell to his knees as his ears altered between hearing everything, and hearing nothing.

He was Spiderman. He should have the strength to get up and save himself.

_ But was it worth it, if everyone else was dead? _

Suddenly, a force hit Peter from behind, and he went flying.

  * • •



“Peter? Pete! You gotta get up, bud.” A shiver of dread raced up Tony’s spine as he watched the boy lying limp on the pavement, the fire behind him being put out by firemen.

He had been notified as soon as Peter went unconscious by Karen. Already, he was planning 20 different changes he could make to the suit to better protect Peter. To notify Tony  _ before  _ his kid went unconscious.

But that didn’t matter now. All that did was that Peter was  _ still  _ unresponsive.

As soon as Tony was notified of Peter’s condition, he raced to suit up and fly to his location, only keeping the suit on once he landed long enough to hear F.R.I.D.A.Y. tell him Peter was alive and in stable condition, before disengaging it and racing, as nothing more than Tony Stark, to the kid’s side. Still, Tony couldn’t stop the anxious thoughts racing through his mind, mainly revolving around the suit.

Why didn’t Karen warn Peter when he was in danger? What had Tony done wrong with the programming of the suit?

How had he failed his kid so terribly?

The thoughts were quickly erased from his mind when a groan was emitted from the body on the floor.

“Peter? You with me?”

The boy’s eyes fluttered open, Tony removing his mask just enough to see his face, but using Tony’s own body to shield him from the crowd forming not far from the two. Tony knew he had to get the kid out of there. Iron Man and Spiderman crouched beside a still-smoking car crash? The news reports would be brutal.

Still, he wanted to be absolutely positive Peter was okay before moving him.

“Mis’r S’ark,” Peter mumbled groggily, mouth full of cotton. Tony sighed as he momentarily rested back on his heels. He ran a hand over his forehead, stopping at the bridge of his nose as his heartbeat slowed significantly.

“You’re giving my gray hairs, kid.”

“‘M sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.”

Tony gently readjusted the kid’s mask so it covered his face once more, promising himself to take it off as soon as the cameras people had begin to point their way were out of sight. His chest panged when Peter’s large brown eyes left his sight, and he desperately wanted to keep the mask off and just keep looking into them to assure himself that  _ Peter was okay _ , but he knew the last thing the kid would want was others knowing his identity.

So he kept the mask on.

Tony called his suit back to him as soon as he had convinced himself Peter was alright. “Come on kid, let’s go back to the tower. Can you stand?”

He pushed himself to his feet, waiting for the kid to join him, but he found himself waiting a second too long. A glance to where Peter remained on the floor explained why.

Peter’s eyes looked desperate, lost, as they drifted over the scene before him. The fire, the overturned cars-

Tony himself had to choke back a sob.

The bodies in the front seats.

And the three in the back.

“Kid, don’t look.” His voice came out weak, quivering, because it was too little, too late. Peter had already seen the damage, and no matter what Tony did, he could never remove those horrors from his kid’s mind.

Peter didn’t respond.

“Peter.” Tony urged his voice to come out stronger, more in control, as his two metal-clad hands gripped Peter’s shoulders and forced them away from the wreckage. Peter fought him at first, but then allowed himself to be turned.

Allowed Tony to see the raw  _ emotion  _ on his face.

His eyes were red with unshed tears, but they weren’t sad. No, they were  _ lost _ . Hopeless. Guilt-ridden. Staring somewhere beyond Tony. Somewhere  _ through  _ him.

Like he wasn’t even there.

Tony gripped his shoulder a bit tighter, essentially holding the kid up.

“Pete. Hey, look at me.”

Slowly, hesitantly, the kid’s eyes lolled their way up to find Tony’s.

“Not your fault.”

Peter nodded slowly, as if he was in a trance. Tony knew he didn’t actually agree. He wouldn’t for a long while, maybe even ever - Tony understood better than most.

“Why don’t we go back to the tower?” he murmured gently, offering his arms to Peter and helping him to his feet.

Tony allowed the kid to curl into his arms as they lifted into the sky, leaving the wreckage behind.

  * • •



When they touched down at the tower, it took Peter longer than expected to detangle himself from his mentor’s iron-clad arms. He moved slow, sluggish, and Tony’s heart ached as he watched his kid trudge into the tower.

Tony followed not too far behind, thinking back to his own mistakes, all the times he’d let civilians die. How afterwards he’s had trouble eating, sleeping. The first time he lost a civilian, shot in a shootout Tony was trying to prevent, he considered hanging up the suit altogether.

But he didn’t.

And he would make sure Peter wouldn’t, either.

Take a seat on the couch, Pete,” he spoke softly when he saw Peter standing in the middle of the foyer, looking lost. “You can even turn on one of those Star Wars movies, if you like. I’ll actually allow you to do it. Take advantage.”

Peter nodded slowly, avoiding eye contact, as he slowly stumbled to the couch and collapsed, gingerly reaching for the remote and beginning to flip through the channels.

Tony sighed, sending one last look to his kid before jogging up the stairs and returning not two minutes later with a pile of blankets. He didn’t hesitate to recline on the couch beside his kid and wrap him in the fluffiest one, knowing Peter wouldn’t be opposed to the sudden contact.

But Tony wondered if he even noticed it at all.

His shoulders remained stiff, eyes focused on what was playing on the t.v., the news-

The news? But Peter  _ hated  _ the news. All the politics and arguments didn’t sit right with him.

He was about to speak up when he heard an intake of breath beside him followed by a soft voice.

“Please don’t hate me.”

Tony’s breath caught in his throat.

Peter was shaking where he was huddled on the couch, his eyes not moving from where his knees were tucked to his chest, refusing to look up.

Tony watched his kid in disbelief, not understanding how Peter could say something so - so  _ stupid _ . How the  _ heck _ could Peter ever believe Tony would hate him? That was his  _ kid _ . Peter could do anything and Tony would support him - even  _ murder _ . Heck, Tony would help him hide the body.

With a cringe, Tony realized he had waited too long to answer as Peter’s shuddering grew more violent.

Tony rested a hand on his shoulder. Peter lightly flinched, but Tony decided not to take it personally when the kid leaned into his touch shortly after.

“Peter, look at me.”

Peter shook his head.

Tony gripped his shoulder tighter and forced the kid around to look at him. Tony  _ hated  _ how harsh he was being, but he needed the kid to understand.

He gently placed two fingers under Peter’s chin and lifted his face until Peter’s large, watering brown eyes met Tony’s own.

“Listen to me.” There was more passion in his voice than he had expected, but he wasn’t surprised. Tony would  _ kill  _ for Peter.

“I will never,  _ ever _ , hate you, you hear me? No matter what happens, I know the real you. I know you would never do anything to warrant my-” Tony had trouble even getting the word out. “-my  _ hatred _ !”

Peter still looked unsure as he fidgeted him hands in his lap, shifting uncomfortably as his eyes searched the room, chin held tightly in Tony’s grasp.

“But you - you have to k-kick me out of the Av-Avengers now.”

A look of confusion crossed Tony’s features as he fought to not let his fingers clench in anger at how little Peter placed his self-worth.

He forced his voice to calm as his eyes softened.

“And why would I do that?”

Peter leaned back to remove his chin from Tony’s grip. Tony complied, letting his hand fall to his lap as Peter looked down, ashamed, his voice deathly quiet.

“I - I killed-”

“No.” Tony cut him off with newfound ferocity in his voice, making Peter wince. Screw gentle. Peter needed to understand. Tony  _ desperately _ needed Peter to understand. “You did  _ not  _ kill them. Did you crash the car?”

“Well, no, but-”

“Did you pour out the gasoline?”

“ _ No _ -”

“Did you set the fire?”

“There were  _ kids _ , Tony!”

Tony froze at the sudden outburst, Peter’s eyes widening at the use of the name.

“I’m sorry,” Peter rushed to gasp out, but Tony just held up a finger.

“No apologizing, kid.”

Peter paused a moment before letting out a light chuckle, catching the both of them off guard.

“That word felt really weird coming out of my mouth.”

Tony raised his eyebrows before falling into a small fit of laughter himself.

“I think I’m gonna stick with Mr. Stark.” Tony nodded, appreciating the opportunity for humour, the chance to laugh with his kid again.

But the dark, haunted look that returned to cloud Peter’s sullen eyes reminded Tony of the underlying threat still at hand.

“Peter.” Tony called the kid’s attention back to him. “Just answer this for me. What more could you have done to save them?”

Peter hesitated for a moment, looking lost; then-

“If I hadn’t taken so long to get my stuff out of my locker after school, maybe I would’ve been on that corner before it happened. I could’ve stopped it.”

Tony watched his kid with pity. This was the worst part of any mission - the “what-ifs”. What if I had moved a bit faster? What if I had turned left rather than right?

But Tony had enough experience to know that there would always be “what-ifs”. Things would always go wrong. It was how you dealt with it that mattered.

“I need you to listen to me, kid.” Peter looked up at Tony with wide, watering eyes, giving him a look that made Tony want to lock the doors and separate them from the outside world. Just the two of them, safe and protected forever.

But he couldn’t. He couldn’t hide himself, and neither could Peter. They had to deal with this, to fight it. Tony would make sure Peter knew he was loved. He was  _ appreciated _ . That never in a million years would he be  _ hated _ .

“This was not your fault. No interrupting.” Tony held up a finger when Peter opened his mouth, and he closed it again dejectedly. “You can’t save everyone, kid, no matter how hard you try. And it’s gonna suck. After an event like this, you’re gonna want to hang up your suit. Stop fighting.” Peter looked down at his lap, ashamed, and Tony guessed he had hit the nail on the head.

“But you can’t. This happens to everyone, kid. Happened to me.”

Peter’s eyes flashed up in shock, and Tony chuckled humorlessly at the response.

“Yeah, kid, even Iron Man can’t save everyone. Goodness knows I tried.”

It was quiet for a minute, until Peter whispered a quiet, “What happened?”

Tony focused straight ahead, thinking back to the one memory that would haunt him every time he put on the suit. It had been a while ago, but he still hadn’t quite forgiven himself yet. Ironic, then, that he was teaching Peter to move on. Tony just hoped that Peter could be better than he himself ever was.

“It was one of my first times wearing the suit,” Tony started, staring somewhere into the distance. Peter waited quietly.

“I was just flying over the city, testing out my thrusters, when I heard screaming. It was a man, with a gun, in the middle of an intersection. So I touched down and raised my thruster-”

Peter clutched a hand to his mouth with a gasp. Tony looked up suddenly, realizing what it must’ve sounded like.

“No, kid, geez, no, I didn’t shoot him.” Peter seemed to relax, but Tony inwardly cursed himself. Tony was finally proving to be the terrible monster Peter had always been too innocent to notice.

“But that was part of the problem. See, I waited too long, said some smart-ass comment-” Tony sighed as he ran a hand down his face to pinch the bridge of his nose. The memory still haunted him, the look on the girl’s face clear as day.

“He aimed the gun and shot it and it - it hit-”

Tony cut himself off, not being able to continue. The memories were just too strong.

Tony was started by Peter moving on the couch to sit closer to his mentor, his small frame providing an insurmountable amount of comfort to the mechanic as Tony wrapped his arm around his kid and held him close.

“It was a young girl,” Tony found the strength to continue, though he knew that when he finished, Peter would never look at him the same way. He guessed it was for the best, though - Tony needed to put as much distance between the two of them as possible. As much as he loved the kid, If he continued to hang around Tony, he would get hurt, or worse. The story just helped prove that.

“Couldn’t have been older than five. And you want to hear what she said to bring the gunman’s attention to her?”

Tony blinked the tears from his eyes as the words, the voice, replayed themselves in his mind, clear as day. They were the sounds that had haunted him for the longest time, and would continue to until - well, Tony didn’t know how long it would be until he forgot. Maybe never. And honestly, he didn’t even know if he  _ wanted  _ to forget. He was responsible for that girl’s death. He had no right to a clear conscience.

“She said, ‘Look, mom, it’s Iron Man. He’ll save us.’”

Tony felt Peter tense in his side but tried to cherish the feeling of his kid leaning against him, realizing it might be the last time Peter would ever want to be close to him.

_ Seems about right _ , he thought as he hastily wiped away a tear he hadn’t even realized had fallen.  _ Now Peter realizes what a monster I am. I’m not a hero, I’m- _

Suddenly, Peter was wrapping his arms around his mentor, resting his chin on his shoulder as Tony looked down at him in surprise.

“Kid, what-”

“Not your fault.”

Tony stared down at the matted curls of his kid incredulously. Why was Peter hugging him? He had killed a five-year-old-

“You didn’t kill her.”

“ _ Geez _ , kid, can you read minds or something?” Tony gasped, but Peter just held him tighter. Tony rested a light hand on Peter’s head, fingers threading through his soft curls.

“Did you aim the gun at her?”

Tony chuckled at the irony and couldn’t held smiling at how  _ selfless  _ the kid was.

“No.”

“Did you pull the trigger?”

“Come on, kid.”

“ _ Did  _ you?”

“No.”

Peter sat back up like that decided it.

“Then you didn’t kill her.”

Tony sighed quietly as he leaned back into the couch cushions.

“Still hurts.”

Peter mirrored his position.

“So this feeling will never go away, then?”

Tony turned his gaze to the kid and saw his brown eyes looking back sadly. Tony shook his head slightly.

“No, but you can try to move on.” He spoke stronger, as if he really believed in what he was saying. For Peter’s sake, at least. “Try to continue saving people. Being a hero isn’t the mistakes you didn’t make; it’s coming back from the ones you did.”

Peter smiled then, but Tony could still see the brokenness behind it. He figured he would for a while. He would help him, though. He would save Peter, help him get back on his feet.

And he would never leave him. No, Peter was his kid.

Maybe that was selfish. Maybe Tony’s self-destructive tendencies would rub off on the kid - maybe something worse would. Tony didn’t care.

Peter was his kid, and Tony would never leave him.


End file.
